- soulguard
- |
- Exalted Mythic Member
Notes: Well here is the next level. I have pretty much decided against using the questionable segment at the end, but I will include it for your reading entertainment.
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Level 15: Those who linger on the edge of chaos…
Northern Camp Eden Brute supply camp
Central Egypt
November 8, 2552
“Reposition those plasma mortars!” A brute captain shouted as he frantically struggled to regain order within his confused camp. The human attack had left his forces dazed and confused, and his unit in complete disarray. “Regroup your teams and keep your eyes sharp for ground forces! If you were not so lazy we would have been ready for them.”
“Why did the humans attack, Captain?” A lowly foot soldier questioned.
The Captain looked at the brute with a quizzical gaze. “We are at war, you idiot! What else would they do?”
The soldier countered. “The humans have lost. It is only a matter of time before we crush them. Why are they still struggling to fight?”
“Ask a Hierarch you curious ape.” The captain chuckled. “Just be sure to kill those damned humans if they come back. Now get back to your post!” The captain roared across the camp and the brutes scattered to positions. With them followed several packs of grunts, all preparing to hunker down in case the humans dared to attack again.
Mixed into this chaos of confused soldiers, grunts and jackals were the Mirratord Grunts. Palab’s two teams had successfully entered the camp and were quietly making their way toward the ship’s gravity lift.
Palab waddled past a brute and bumped into another grunt. The young creature stumbled back from Palab’s larger size and looked at him curiously; sniffing him in an attempt to identify the large Unggoy.
“Who you pack?” The young grunt questioned. Palab remained silent, and glared deeply into the grunt’s eyes. His team began to motion around the grunt, surrounding him on all sides. If Palab gave the word, they would kill him quickly and quietly, but Palab did not want to spill another of his kin’s blood without warrant.
“Hey, me ask you question.” The young grunt continued. “Me not see you here before. You elder pack brother? Who you camp?”
Palab stepped closer, realizing that eventually a brute would over hear their conversation. He glared into the grunts eyes, threateningly. The young grunt began to tremble from his stare. It was not the approach or the hostile intent that had the young grunt panicked, not even Palab’s unique size bothered him. It was the depth of his stare. The young grunt could feel his eyes, peering beyond his own, looking deeper into his mind then any creature should.
He staggered back, lowered to the ground and shielded his eyes from Palab. His arms covered his head as he trembled in fear. “Me know you.” The grunt wept in Covenant tongue. “Me not want you see me like this.”
Palab spoke, but only in the traditional barks of the Unggoy language.“You follow the Jiralhanae in fear.” Palab softly whispered to the young grunt. “But I do not bow to no one.”
“You are a great leader.” The young grunt added in their traditional tongue, a language that the Covenant had long ignored and no longer chose to understand. The young grunt slowly returned his eyes to meet Palab’s. “Messiah…” The young grunt was cut off when his Brute commander kicked him to the side.
“Silence that infuriating racket, pest. Get back to your duties.” The young brute, in foot soldier armor, looked to the small pack of six grunts standing with the young grunt he had just kicked aside. His eyes could not ignore Palab’s unusually large size. “You must be the pack elder. Get your grunts back to work before I make an example of you.” The brute glared at Palab, but something unusual happened, Palab, a mere grunt, was staring back.
Palab had shed his fear of brutes and elites a long time ago, and his prior battles had given him an unusual amount of confidence. He didn’t care that the brute was nearly twice his height, and four times his weight, Palab only cared that he showed the brute who was really the more dominant warrior in the camp.
“Cast your eyes to the side, pest, before I remove them!” The brute roared. His words caught the attention of several other brutes and grunts alike. “You would dare glare at me?”
At that moment two thoughts crossed Palab’s mind; his mission, and showing the other grunts in the camp that they did not have to serve with the brutes. His mission, however, would have to be his priority. Swallowing his pride, Palab lowered his head and looked away from the brute. Attacking the brute would only cause unneeded attention; he couldn’t jeopardize the mission.
The brute laughed mockingly. “Wise choice.” He then kicked Palab, thinking the grunt would merely roll backwards and cower at his presence. However, Palab merely slid backwards, planted his hoof in the soft Eden top soil, and regained his balance. He snarled behind his methane mask as the brute glared at him curiously.
The brute walked away and huffed. “You have courage, Unggoy. But the next time you stand up to me, I will gut you and feed your entrails to the Kig-Yar.” The Brute walked off and the Mirratord grunts quickly raced to Palab’s side.
“Are you alright, mighty one?” One of his kin questioned in their language.
Palab looked up and nodded a sharp yes. “I am fine. Hurry, we need to get to the ship’s gravity lift.” The pack quickly began to shuffle deeper into the pack, but they were stopped when the young grunt jumped in their path.
“Wait! Let me join you. I wish to fight by your side.” Bruised and holding his arm, the young grunt’s eyes swelled with tears as he pleaded with Palab.
Palab thought back to the battle at the Dam, and how many grunts he had killed that day. Their blood stained his hands and his heart, as he could not convince them to understand that the brutes and Prophets were lying to them. They had all turned against him, attacking him without remorse or regret, believing that he was truly a fake Messiah. Palab had thought that all of his kin serving with the brutes had been completely brainwashed by the Covenant.
“Why do you wish to come with me? Didn’t the Jiralhanae tell you that I was fake?”
“The Jiralhanae lie to us. They say that the Messiah was not real and that we would all go on the Great Journey with the Covenant if we stay and fight for the Covenant. But many of them fear you. I’ve watched, and heard many rumors of a great Unggoy warrior that fights with the Sangheili and had spilled the blood of thousands of Brutes.”
Palab did a mental count, and he only recalled killing at most forty brutes in the war so far. The rumors of his deeds had spread like wildfire throughout his kin’s gossip circles; rumors that had been wildly exaggerated.
“I did not believe at first, but after seeing you here and seeing the wounds of combat upon your armor, I know that the rumors are true. You are the great leader of our dreams here to lead us home. The Jiralhanae talk as though you are the only Unggoy worthy enough of respect. Many of them are hunting for you, to see if the rumor is true, to fight you. I will never let them come near you. I will fight for you!” The young grunt stood in Palab’s shadow, reminding him of the hundreds of other grunts that had come to him asking to follow. Like all the young grunts under his leadership, Palab was humbled by his words, but he knew to look to the bigger picture. In order to be free, to truly free his kin from the clutches of a War that was not their own, Palab would need to untie their bond from the Covenant and the elites.
“Listen to me young one, gather all of the Unggoy that believe the way you do. Those who wish to free from the Brutes must leave this camp.” Palab turned to Migpap and Mitab. “Go with him and lead them past the human and Sangheili group. Tell the honorable human that these Unggoy will not fight for the Brutes…”
“Leave?” The young grunt questioned. “No, mighty one. I will fight, and so will the others. When the Jiralhanae took over the Covenant we followed them in ignorance, but once I tell the others that you are real… they will fight with you.”
Migpap stood tall at Palab’s side. “He’s right, Sir. We can use this to our advantage. I know you, sir, and I know that you would rather for them to leave the camp and not endanger themselves, but we all know the price of freedom. Like the Sangheili before, I am sure that the Jiralhanae use our kin as if they are worthless. The Sangheili may have a new respect for us, but we are still not free. To be free from tyrannical tyrants, we must use force.”
Palab looked to Migpap, his first disciple. “Our freedom can not come by peace. You know the truth as well as I do, Migpap. But we can not be free if we are all dead. I can not ask these young packs, who have barely understood the pain of this war, to take up arms so soon. But you are correct about using this to our advantage.”
Mitab kindly spoke up. “Sirs, we must hurry. I’m sure the honorable human is worried about the time.”